


je souhaite

by legdabs (scvlly)



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, how do u tag things on this hell site will i ever learn? probably not, obligatory new year fic ur welcome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-25 19:48:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13219947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scvlly/pseuds/legdabs
Summary: dan's greatest wish is to kiss phil at midnight, beneath fireworks and stars, on new year's eve.it always has been, for some reason, but after eight years of waiting, it's still not happened.this year, though. this year it will. he's going to make his own damn wish come true.





	je souhaite

It’s the day before New Year’s Eve, and Dan and Phil are in an airport.

For once, this doesn’t equal disaster.

In fact, their flight isn’t for another hour and a half: they’d left the house without forgetting or losing anything, the taxi was on time, and airport security was virtually empty.

Dressed in jeans and cosy, over-sized jumpers with t-shirts underneath and a rucksack beneath the table between them, they take their time sipping over-priced coffees with a breakfast of waffles and pancakes and fruit and syrups that leave them both just a bit regretful of the influence they allow sugar to have in their day-to-day decision-making.

They’re normally tense and alert in airports - there’s no telling who might be around and spot them, and getting ready to fly makes Phil especially more on-edge, because he has a tendency to turn into a stressed white suburban mother of three struggling to keep her kids, and the world around her, in line.

But today is different.

Today, Dan’s made Phil promise not to worry - no stressing, no rushing, just relaxing and enjoying.

Dan’s planned it all out.

He’s taking Phil on holiday, and they’re going to celebrate the new year together - just the two of them - for the very first time.

 

* * *

 

You see, Dan had bought a plane ticket - two, actually, and he’s still impressed that he remembered to book the travel with a half board hotel - to Portugal, on a whim, without telling Phil, whilst curled up alone in his childhood bed on Christmas Day.

£300 and forty-eight hours later, he’d also changed up some currency, extensively Wikipedia’d their destination, booked them a taxi to the airport, and finally, called Phil’s mum to tell her what he’d done, and ask how best she thought he should break the news of his rash expenditure to her son.

Helpfully, she just laughed at him.

‘Don’t worry, Dan,’ she said eventually, ‘you know he won’t be upset. I’ll just tell him he’s going home early because you’ve got a surprise.’

‘What if he doesn’t wanna go, though?’

‘He’d go with you to the ends of the Earth. You don’t have to worry that he wouldn’t want to go to somewhere as beautiful as that.’

Dan’s sigh of relief, of validation, didn’t go unnoticed. He could practically hear Kath smiling down the phone, and he certainly did hear it, wrapped in fondness, in her voice when she spoke again.

‘Look after yourselves. And enjoy it.’

‘Thanks, Kath. Sorry to steal your son for New Year.’

‘Quite alright, Dan. You stole him a long time ago.’ She laughed again, before they said their goodbyes.

Dan hung up, pulled a case onto their bed, and began to pack.

He’d learned his lesson about leaving packing to the last minute.

He wouldn’t let a single thing go wrong on this holiday.

 

* * *

 

‘Dan? I’m home!’

Dan heard their flat door close, followed by the heavy thud of Phil’s roll bag being dropped to the floor, and the sound of his shoes as they were kicked off and left in the hall.

‘Up here!’ He called, and listened as Phil made his way through their home and up a set of stairs, before gently pushing open their bedroom door.

It was with a strange combination of nervous excitement and anticipation, one that he’d not really felt since a certain fateful day eight years ago in Manchester, that he watched Phil take in the scene before him: Dan, on their bed, surrounded by paperwork and clothes and passports and flight details, with a hesitant grin on his face.

‘Welcome back?’

‘What have you done?!’ Phil laughed, moving closer to get a better look at some of the papers. His mum had told Dan that she had told Phil that Dan had a surprise waiting for him, so he should go home early. Phil, clearly, wasn’t expecting this kind of surprise.

‘I booked us a holiday,’ Dan thrust forward a wad of paper held together by some industrial-strength staples, which Phil took and read through quickly.

Without looking up, he said, ‘I was honestly expecting a dog.’

‘Sorry. I know what we’ve said about them and I didn’t wanna get one without you and I thought about it but then I thought that this-’

‘Dan.’ Their eyes met. ‘I didn’t want you to buy me a dog.’

‘Ok,’ Dan bit his lip, but let Phil continue reading, watching him intently.

‘So. Portugal, huh?’

‘Yeah, it was cheap and we’ve always said we wanted to go back and I know it’s for only a few days but I thought it’d be nice and a surprise-’

Phil was long used to Dan’s nervous ramblings, so it was with a mixture of sympathy and amusement that he listened and smiled and interrupted, saying: ‘Hey, it sounds fantastic.’

Dan pouted. ‘You hate it.’

‘I really don’t.’

‘Yeah you do. Look, it’s fine, I’ll cancel it. It wasn’t that much anyway.’

‘Listen to me, you. Stop over-thinking. This holiday sounds perfect and your surprise is perfect and _you_ are perfect, and you need to listen to me now because I haven’t seen you in nearly a week and your incessant worrying over nothing is really eating into the time when I could be touching you.’

Dan was so genuinely stressed that he didn’t seem to register the latter part of Phil’s sentence. ‘Really? You want to go? Because honestly Phil, it’s OK if you don’t wanna-’

Phil had kissed him then, to shut him up, but Dan still felt his smile against his lips.

OK. No more doubts. He’d definitely done something right.

 

* * *

 

They’d had the afternoon to finish the packing Dan had started, then re-done, then changed his mind on completely and un-packed, leaving an empty suitcase and a clothes-strewn bed amongst the rest of the mess of the room.

Passports were arranged and put on the coffee table with Phil’s emergency plane kit (containing all sorts from paracetamol to eye drops, because he’d learned from experience that nothing is unnecessary when it comes to preparing for what Dan might manage to do); their hand luggage consisted of a single rucksack with a book each, their laptops, phone chargers, and emergency cash. Over years of travelling they’d become practised at condensing their belongings to a shared bag to make it easier to get through security and to carry between them, and it sat by the table, waiting for their early morning cab.

They went to bed after dinner - tomato pasta eaten on the couch, legs pressed together as Dan’s speaker played something soft and electronic, and they caught up on all they’d missed in the long six days that they were apart.

 

* * *

 

It’s long after they’ve finished their airport breakfast that they hear the gate called for their flight to Faro, and head to Boots for some water and snacks for the plane. The cashier seems to recognise Phil, but doesn’t say anything, so they carry on without interruption through the airport.

The flight is full, but the everything moves smoothly, and they’re soon on board and taxiing down the runway.

Dan’s not the nervous flier he once was, but out of habit, Phil’s hand still subtly finds its way to the younger boy’s inner thigh. Dan’s hand covers it and holds on until they’re up in the air, a few thousand feet off the ground, when the seat-belt signs are turned off and people start to move around the plane.

It’s then that Phil gets out his book, Dan puts in his earphones, and they settle in to the three-or-so hour flight.

As always, after about half an hour, Dan falls asleep with his head leaning on Phil’s shoulder, and Phil makes sure to order a second drink for his boyfriend for when he wakes up.

 

* * *

 

Portugal is hot.

Of course, this is not a surprise to Dan or Phil, but it’s not something their bodies are all too prepared for. Especially not when they hadn’t taken off their jumpers in the air-conditioned airport, and are very much used to the cold of winter back home.

It’s a quick strip down to their t-shirts the moment the humid air hits them, before Dan’s dragging their case across the tarmac to the waiting minibus that will transfer them to their hotel, about forty minutes along the coast.

There’s a family of four already buckled in, and another yet to collect their cases, so the two climb in beside the driver to wait in the cool. It doesn’t take long for the others to arrive and, still unrecognised, they head off.

 

* * *

 

The hotel is perfect.

There can’t be more than fifty rooms, arranged opposite the beach in a horse-shoe shape around a central, tiered pool area with deck chairs and a small but well-stocked bar. It’s almost exclusively populated by older couples, with enough in their mid-twenties and early thirties that they don’t feel out of place - but even after settling in and eating dinner in the restaurant, Dan and Phil haven’t seen a single person who looks to be from their viewers’ traditional demographic.

Given what they’re looking for from this trip, they really couldn’t ask for anything more.

‘Do you wanna go to bed?’ Phil asks as they sit opposite each other in two deep armchairs to the side of the foyer, sipping the last of a cocktail he’s tried and failed repeatedly to pronounce as Dan nurses what’s left of his daiquiri.

Dan raises an eyebrow. ‘Is this you propositioning me, Lester?’

‘Is it working?’

‘You’re not even trying,’ laughs Dan, putting his finished drink on the table and standing.

Phil watches as he cracks his neck, then his knuckles, and looks down at him expectantly.

‘Yeah, well. You’re an old man with old bones, apparently. I don’t need to try.’

‘Shut up,’ Dan reaches out a hand and pulls Phil to his feet, drinking the last of the cocktail himself before setting it down beside his glass.

‘Oi!’

‘You’re a slow drinker now, _old man_. Gotta look after your poor liver. Lucky I’m here to help, eh?’

‘Cheeky shit,’ Phil mutters jokingly, pushing Dan forward and towards the lifts as they both laugh. Phil swings an arm lightly around his lower back. There’s nobody around, nobody to judge or take sneaking photos or even to care at all, and it’s incredibly liberating to be able to act on impulse, on want, on love.

It’s bittersweet, he thinks, and relishes the continuing moment as the doors slide closed and the lift ascends and Dan takes his face in his hands, pressing their lips together with an incredible tenderness that even after all these years, still makes his stomach flip.

 

* * *

 

On the last day of 2017, they wake up together as they have every morning but a few numerous enough to count on their fingers; tangled in soft cotton sheets and each other, bare back to bare chest, with the already-warm sun behind the curtain bathing the room and their bodies in a soft orange glow.

They take their time getting ready, heading to breakfast in lose-fitting shirts and shorts and sandals and piling their plates with fruits and pastries, making the most of the climate to sit outside and eat. The atmosphere of the hotel is very relaxed; fruit juices become cocktails before it’s even midday and they sit by the pool, soaking in the sun and each others’ presence.

Dan can’t remember the last time they did something like this - just the two of them, in the sun, doing nothing but lazing about.

Seeing how happy Phil is, how happy _he_ is, makes him wish he’d booked a trip longer than four nights.

Never mind. They’re making the most of what time they do have, even if it’s by doing nothing much at all. Tonight’s the main reason for their trip - ringing in the new year with a band, buffet, and fireworks on the beach, and as he rubs more sun cream into Phil’s ever-pale back, Dan can’t help but feel just a _little_ bit excited.

 

* * *

 

Phil’s not really sure how it happened, but it’s almost three in the afternoon, on New Year’s Eve, and Dan has somehow convinced him that it’d be a really good idea to go swimming in the sea.

‘It’s really not that cold once you’re in,’ he calls from a few metres away, submerged above his shoulders with loose wet curls falling over his forehead.

This, in Phil’s opinion, is absolutely a lie. It may be the Mediterranean (well, technically, it’s still the Atlantic, which makes it sound even colder), but it’s not summer, and Phil knows that, the water knows that, but Dan apparently does not.

‘Well it’s really cold being out, so I’m gonna just… not get in.’

‘Phil.’ Dan sounds pouty, and that settles it: Phil will not turn around. He won’t. He will keep walking to shore - it’s not that far now, is it? - and wait until Dan gets bored and -

‘Shit!’

Strong hands grab his legs and pull them out from under him, and Phil somehow falls backwards into the water, just missing a cackling Dan who watches his graceless fall. The shock of the cold water tells him he definitely was right about the water temperature, but that validation isn’t so sweet when his entire body feels like it might just freeze off and float away. Then again, as the shock wears off, and if he keeps moving, it’s maybe not so bad after all. He kicks his way to the surface, shaking salt water from his face and glaring at Dan.

‘I’m gonna kill you.’

‘Oops.’

Dan is smirking and has an eyebrow raised in challenge and yeah, Phil is absolutely gonna kill him.

Doing what Dan doesn’t expect is always the most fun, so when Phil launches his entire body towards him across the water, taking him down with him into the surf, it’s pretty enjoyable to watch the surprise and shock transform his face until he hits the water with a still-open mouth.

What ensues is a water fight unlike anything they’ve had since their trip to the Caribbean. There’s a lot of splashing and falling and laughing and squealing like children because really they’re just big kids who eat a bit too much sugar and should probably do stuff like this to burn off some energy a bit more often, and actually, Phil muses, there’s no real reason why they can’t.

They forgot the reason why they’re ‘fighting’ long ago so it’s not like there’s going to be a winner, but when Dan holds his hand up for a time-out, already-tanned chest heaving and glistening with water drops in the sun and black trunks sitting low on his hips, Phil thinks that actually, maybe there is a winner.

And if there is, it’s definitely him.

 

* * *

 

The hotel had put on a buffet dinner, with one hell of a lot of choice. Dan had found himself going back for more time and again for himself and Phil, and he couldn’t really be bothered to feel bad about that because it was just so damn good.

As the night wore on, they’d had to slow their speed of cocktail consumption because their heads and stomachs were each telling them that they weren’t the late teenaged boys they once were, and really couldn’t handle so much fruity alcohol. Still, it was nice - the hotel staff had brought out blankets to let the guests sit outside and listen to the band as the temperature dropped, and Dan and Phil found themselves chatting easily with the couples sat around them until people began to noticeably drift out of the hotel’s grounds, and towards the beach.

They decide it’s probably time to join them at a little before half past eleven, walking together and taking care not to kick too much sand into their shoes, because it’s little things like that that really piss Dan off, and Dan doesn’t want to be pissed off.

Dan wants everything to be perfect.

So far, it’s gone to plan. Taking a holiday as a couple to a place where they can somewhat openly act like one, to welcome in the new year at a public fireworks display where they can be together and kiss one another like everyone else seems to be able to.

Even though they’ve spent the past few new years together, with their families and friends, it hasn’t felt quite right. There’s still the feeling of being watched, of being more to those around them than just another two people who’ve found each other in this mess of a universe, and Dan really wants to feel the kind of anonymity that comes with being one of a pair of tall dark figures, faceless and in love against a scenic backdrop of fireworks.

He’s always known he could never feel that in London. No matter how dense the crowds lining the banks of the Thames, there’s always that risk that someone could see, or a camera would catch them in the background of a shot. It’s that risk that pushes them to family homes in Reading, or the Isle of Man, or their friends’ places elsewhere in their city.

It’s not so much that Dan wants to show off what he has, what they have; he just wants what any other couple can take for granted. It sounds clichéd, he knows, and he doesn’t normally seek out that kind of thing, but to be honest, it’s been eight years, and he just wants to be able to kiss his boyfriend as the clock strikes midnight and not have to worry about who sees.

It’s why he’d brought them here, to this little corner of the Mediterranean coastline, away from anyone - both people and prejudices, he’d hoped - that could ruin their time.

And for once in his life, his plan has worked.

They stand at the back of the beach a little behind the other holiday-makers and locals; most of whom are already coupled off and looking towards the collection of fireworks ready in the sand closer to the sea. Midnight must be getting close, Dan thinks, because chatter has begun to build and a kind of collective excitement is palpable in the air.

He turns to Phil, follows his gaze out to sea, before his eyes move back to look him up and down. Phil’s wearing Dan's black Vetements hoodie because he’s an idiot and forgot to bring any other jumpers than the one he travelled in, a pair of cuffed jeans, odd socks, and trainers; his hair slightly wavy from the salt water from their earlier swim and pushed back into an almost quiff. Their eyes meet as Dan’s eyes flicker down his face, Phil smirking after having watched Dan check him out for a good minute or so. Dan blushes like he always does, looking again towards the sea, then up to the stars and an almost-full moon, beautifully clear in a cloudless sky.

Phil’s arm snakes around his waist, pulling their sides together, and he presses a kiss to his warm cheek.

‘You OK, love?’

‘Yeah. You?’

‘Perfect.’ Phil smiles and his eyes crinkle just so, and Dan’s heart feels impossibly full.

Someone shouts that there’s a minute to go (or something along those lines, Dan assumes, because he absolutely does not speak Portuguese) and Phil’s arm tightens.

‘Do you know how long I’ve wanted to do this with you outside of the living room of someone’s house?’ He murmurs into his ear, his low voice managing, as it always does, to make Dan physically shiver.

‘I’m assuming it’s been as long as I’ve wanted to,’ Dan says, turning into Phil so that they’re facing each other. Phil’s arm around him is joined by its opposite, pulling them closer together until their hips are just touching and Dan almost loses his balance on the slight incline of the dune where they stand.

Phil’s hands move to hold Dan’s belt loops, fingers stroking lightly over the bare skin beneath his jumper as Dan reaches his arms around to hold Phil’s waist. They don’t say anything else - they don’t need to - they communicate well enough through dilated pupils and soft touches, and it’s only the fact that they’re supposed to wait until midnight before they can do anything about the tension between them that’s keeping them apart.

Dan’s never heard it said that fifty seconds feels like a lifetime if you’re in love, but it’s a saying he’s happy to invent and tell to anyone who will listen.

The beginning of the final countdown to midnight is quite possibly the sweetest sound he’s ever heard.

‘Ten!’

Dan tenses and feels Phil straighten up before him, a little surprised by the noise shaking them both from their somewhat distracted trances.

‘Nine!’

He waits to see if Phil will join in the countdown and he’s relieved to see that he doesn’t speak. It’s probably a really good thing, because he’s not sure how long he can stand watching Phil’s lips moving without being able to touch them.

‘Eight!’

It’s time to retract that earlier statement, Dan thinks. It turns out, ten seconds, being counted down out loud, feels like an even longer lifetime.

‘Seven!’

Phil’s eyes move away from his for the first time, darting between them and his lips. Dan somehow feels impossibly more frustrated.

‘Six!’

_Jesus fucking Christ._

‘Five!’

The rest of the crowd are yelling now. Dan is ready to tell them to just skip the rest of the numbers and shut up, thank you very much.

‘Four!’

He sees movement out of the corner of his eye, somewhere near to the fireworks. At least _someone_ thinks it’s time for action.

‘Three!’

Dan has had enough. Why wait for a countdown? Time is a social construct and-

‘Fuck it,’ Phil says under his breath, taking Dan completely by surprise and grabbing his face and pulling it down to his.

Seconds two and one and the cheers of ‘Happy New Year!’ are completely obscured by the feeling of Phil’s tongue sweeping across his lips, inside of his mouth; one hand moving through his hair with a slight tug to the back of his curls as the other cups his jaw. The fireworks Dan hears exploding to his right are nothing compared to the sparks behind his closed eyes and the tingling heat of Phil everywhere around him. He gives as good as he gets, his hands pulling Phil’s hips even closer, gripping tightly as his fingers span his back and he presses deeper into the kiss.

This moment, this ridiculous and clichéd midnight kiss that he’d laughed at and envied in equal measure, has been well worth waiting for.

Dan takes Phil’s lower lip between his teeth, nibbling a little before pulling it away then letting it go, and after God knows how long, their mouths finally part. Their foreheads rest together for just a moment, breathing each others’ air until a loud bang pulls them from a trance in which they are held so completely by one another.

The fireworks, the last few minutes of the display, really are beautiful. Scatterings of sparks in a myriad of colours soar above the water and light up the beach and the people before them, fading into nothingness in the night air.

There’s a faint smell of smoke and it tickles Dan’s nose, but it’s strangely grounding and he doesn’t mind it, not really. Its unpleasantness makes it feel very real.

Dan wants this, wants them, to always feel real.

 

* * *

 

The display isn’t on for much longer, but because of the reason why they missed its start, Dan can’t seem to make himself feel at all upset about missing out.

After it ends, the beach clears relatively quickly: the night is crisp and most of the people they’d seen didn’t seem to be dressed for it without the blankets they’d left at the hotel. The two of them stand together, waiting for nothing in particular, and the chattering around them eventually fades to nothing but the waves rolling gently to shore.

Dan makes himself smaller than Phil, slouching just enough to be able to rest his head against Phil’s chest as Phil’s arms around his back hold him tight. They stand together for he doesn’t know how long, swaying in a warm breeze, breathing in the salt and sand and each other.

Eventually, Phil takes an arm away from where it’s wrapped around Dan and points up at the sky, now free of any lingering smoke from the pyrotechnics.

‘See that star?’

‘Mhmm,’ Dan tilts his head to follow Phil’s hand, still leaning into his warmth.

‘That’s… uh. I dunno what it’s called, actually.’

Dan laughs. ‘Of course you don’t, you spork.’

‘It’s bright, though,’

‘Yeah, Phil. It’s a star.’

‘No, like, really bright! It sounds stupid but I don’t know if I’ve ever seen a star that bright before.’

Phil watches Dan squint up at it, giving his observation some consideration before turning back. He rests his chin on Phil’s chest to look up at him, smiling.

‘Maybe it’s a new star. Or one you can only see here, on this beach, on this night, once a year.’ Dan’s teasing a little, but it’s only ever good-natured.

‘Maybe,’ Phil answers, sounding lost in thought. He lets his chin drop to sit on Dan’s head as he continues to look up at the sky, then draws back to kiss his forehead. Dan feels his chin being lifted by Phil’s finger and he pulls himself up to almost his full height; still slouching a little so they’re eye to eye, still pressed together from chest to toe.

‘Happy New Year, Dan.’ He kisses him again, softly this time, and his lips linger with a promise and love that go unsaid, but leave no doubt in Dan’s mind that they are meant entirely, for every year that they share.

‘Happy New Year, Phil,’ he replies once they part, looking into eyes so soft and warm and decidedly blue in the pale light of the moon.

He takes Phil’s hand then, drawing back from his embrace and linking their fingers as they start the walk up the beach, along the boardwalk, and back to their hotel.

The sea and their footsteps and a faint chirping of crickets are the only sounds Dan hears, and it’s a strange but beautiful thing that he feels his wish has been granted here, passing an empty hotel pool, hand in hand with the man he loves.

**Author's Note:**

> happy new year kiddies if u celebrate it!  
> if not, and also if you do, i hope you are having a lovely day and have a lovely tomorrow and each day after that.
> 
> p.s. sorry for how often i seem to make phil swear when i write. i guess it's just so much fun.
> 
> the title mean 'i wish', if you were wondering. 
> 
> legdabs on tumblr xx


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